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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30064755">with friends like these (who needs anybody else)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cealesti/pseuds/cealesti'>cealesti</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>anybody else [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, No character bashing, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, POV Multiple, Slytherin Harry Potter, Unreliable Narrator</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:53:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,444</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30064755</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cealesti/pseuds/cealesti</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Harry wonders at the similarities between them. At what point have they diverged, at what point did Harry choose and made himself up in a different shape?</p><p>He wonders what would have happened if Riddle hadn’t gone through with the first kill.</p><p>The first murder.</p><p> </p><p>[ A companion piece to “with eyes like these (who sees anybody else)” ]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>anybody else [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077812</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>with friends like these (who needs anybody else)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is, as I've mentioned in "with eyes like these", a companion piece with multiple POVs, to provide some insight on what's going on behind the scenes with our adventurous time travellers. However, this is <b>not</b> obligatory reading; you can perfectly well stick with Tom's POV in the main story.</p><p>That being said, chapters from both works are coordinated. I'll be posting them in a specific order and intervals, taking into account what's happening in the main story, so do keep that in mind for the Improved Reading Experience.</p><p>That being said - enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><i>harry</i> i is meant to be read betwen chapters 3 &amp; 4 of "with eyes like these".</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There are times, far and few in between, when Harry can’t help but think:</p><p>
  <em> What if things were different? </em>
</p><p>He’s typically not one to bother with such things - not since he was a young child. Years of being dismissed and discredited, repeatedly told that he <em> didn’t belong </em> , that he was <em> a waste of space </em> , that he <em> should not ask questions, boy! </em> squashed that nasty little habit. Subsequent years of being chased by a homicidal maniac, witnessing gross misconducts of justice, and living through every type of disappointment authority figures could conjure up - well, it only worsened that tendency.</p><p>What's the point of <em> hoping </em>, really, for things to be better when that resulted in nothing but heartache? Nothing but disappointment, nothing but disheartenment -</p><p>
  <em> - nothing but the growing certainty that he was not meant to live through this war - </em>
</p><p>But still.</p><p>Sometimes, it runs away with him. An overactive imagination, his primary school teachers used to say, and it is still dreadfully true. His mind wanders during particularly dull classes and late-night excursions around the castle, conjuring up a thousand imaginary worlds, a thousand worlds filled to the brim with <em> what ifs </em>. It only makes his heart ache with the reminder of everything he’s lost, of everything he’ll never get back - but he can’t help himself.</p><p>What if Harry hadn’t been stupid enough to fall prey to Voldemort’s manipulation, or reckless enough to actually <em> chase </em> it and end up getting Sirius killed?</p><p>What if he’d been smarter, more attentive, thought <em> something’s wrong </em> after an Imperiused champion followed a sabotaged Goblet, and picked up the Triwizard Cup before Cedric had the chance to touch it?</p><p>What if his parents hadn’t trusted the wrong friend, what if Merope Gaunt hadn’t passed away, and instead chose to fight for her newborn son?</p><p>What if Dumbledore had <em> paid attention </em> ? What if he had gazed upon the dark eyes of an angry, terrified child, hungry for attention and wary of it all the same - what if he’d looked and thought <em> I can help you </em> rather than <em> hopeless </em>.</p><p>It’s the sort of thought Harry didn’t dare utter, back when he first saw the memory of a young Tom Riddle, shoulders already burdened with the sort of cynicism that would carry him through teenagehood. He’d seen the tension along the lines of that child’s body, the sunken cheeks and unhealthy pallor that speak of a lack of sunlight and healthy meals, the flinty eyes of someone who’d learnt to fight or flight.</p><p>For a second there, it was just a bit <em> too much </em>; the juxtaposition between two bodies, two children; bright green and dark brown eyes, tidy waves and messy locks of black hair - but the same thin figure, the same defensive posture, the same odd fit of clothes that were never meant for them.</p><p>It made his stomach turn; it made a voice sound in his head, rich and smooth, well-chosen words thrown with cruel accuracy, <em> there are strange likenesses between us, </em>dark eyes that shone with genuine mirth at the obvious truth.</p><p>Muggle raised, halfblood orphans, and that’s only what a young Ginny’s perspective managed to convey. Because the Riddle that emerged from that diary, immaterial and ephemeral, couldn’t guess at the words that sit between his empty ribs every summer. Couldn’t guess at the feelings that lodge in his throat, sticky and vile; at the rage that builds in his palms, traipses through his fingers, curls at the dip of his collarbone, and tells him that it would be <em> so easy, to curse them, look at them, proud and arrogant and fucking defenseless - </em></p><p>Strange likenesses, he said, and every year Harry feels them more strongly. In an increasingly mercurial temper, in the sharpness of a tongue he’s not meant to flaunt in the house of red and gold, in the magic that crinkles in his fingertips and sparks through a phoenix feather wand into curses that fall so sweetly from his lips -</p><p>Sometimes Harry wonders at the similarities between them. At what point have they diverged, at what point did Harry <em> choose </em> and made himself up in a different shape?</p><p>He wonders what would have happened if Riddle hadn’t gone through with the first kill.</p><p>The first murder.</p><p>The first atrocity.</p><p>It’s inevitable, or so he’s trying to convince himself, that his thoughts often stray towards Voldemort. It’s only natural, really, considering the amount of time he’s spent with Dumbledore pouring over the scavenged memories that portray Voldemort, known monstrosity, as Tom Riddle, prodigious half blood. All of it - the orphanage, the look in Mrs. Cole’s face, the anger and the envy and the <em> want </em> - it’s disconcertingly familiar.</p><p>Harry can’t unsee it, not like Dumbledore wants him to.</p><p>Maybe that’s why he’s found his interest inexorably piqued.</p><p>It’s not entirely <em> odd </em> . Voldemort has been a constant in his life, from the very first moment a half-giant knocked down the door of a crumbling shed and said <em> you’re a wizard </em> . There isn’t a wizarding world without Voldemort, there isn’t a <em> Harry Potter </em> without Voldemort, and - well. It’s only natural that Harry is <em> invested, </em>curious about what sort of circumstances could have possibly originated such a monster, about what tied their lives and destinies so closely together.</p><p>But there's more to it than that.</p><p>He isn’t just <em> curious </em> . Hermione is curious; she asks Harry what he’s seen in each lesson and what additional information Dumbledore provided, their discussions, and conclusions. Ron is curious; he often asks Harry small questions that pop into his head about the Dark Lord, and never fails to look vaguely nauseated when Harry deigns to answer. <em> Ginny </em> is curious - she has quietly but firmly told him everything she remembers about Riddle - mannerisms, ideas, speech patterns, and wait for Harry to confirm or deny the act.</p><p>They’re curious about a figure that is fantastical and terrible enough to be more myth than man - but that’s just it. They find it useful maybe, morbid certainly, but nothing more. They don’t spend hours replaying conversations and word inflections in their heads, pulling them apart and then back together to see if the patterns and the lies start making any sort of sense. They don’t find themselves enraptured by the easy grace of Riddle’s walk, his smooth speech, the way he <em> thought </em> . They don’t go through the experience of being so absolutely <em> charmed </em> by his words, not due to the easy way they’re delivered in a classy drawl, but also <em> (but mostly) </em> due to the knowledge that they’re <em> fake </em> and carefully calculated. They don’t wake up in the middle of the night, shaking, thinking of sculpted cheekbones, dark hair, and endless dark brown eyes.</p><p>He’s not just curious.</p><p>He’s completely mesmerized, and he’s pretty sure that’s not supposed to happen.</p><p>Hermione notices.</p><p>Bless her, of course she does.</p><p>“Is everything alright, Harry?”</p><p>Blinking, Harry looks away from the crackling embers in the fireplace and towards his bushy-haired friend, slightly bewildered. They are, along with Ron and Ginny, all by their lonesome in the Gryffindor Common Room, the combination of a late hour and Christmas break making it quite easy for them to claim the cozy chairs closest to the fire as their own. Ron drowsily flickers his eyes up to look at Hermione as well, already more asleep than awake, while Ginny continues to pet Crookshanks.</p><p>“What do you mean?” Harry asks, frowning slightly</p><p>She hesitates.</p><p>“You’ve been...distracted”. Hermione says slowly, eyebrows furrowed in worry as she quietly appraises her best friend. “Have you been thinking about Padfoot?”</p><p>Harry feels his heart lurch and his throat go dry. Even as the guilt churns in his gut, even as he realizes how little he’s been thinking about his Godfather, he can’t help but consider it a small blessing. He can barely contain his grief every time his thoughts turn back to the summer and the Department of Mysteries. “Not really, no.”</p><p>“Oh”. Hermione blinks, and then looks pensive “Well you’ve been very quiet these past weeks and, well, I didn’t want to say anything. But if it isn’t about Padfoot...Harry, what’s going on?”</p><p>Despite the immediate flush that overcomes him as soon as brown eyes and a poised smile flash in his head, Harry can’t contain the smile tugging at his lips. It feels good, he thinks, to be so known by these people he holds so dear.</p><p>It’s this thought that gives him the courage to continue.</p><p>“I’ve been thinking about Tom Riddle.” The words come out in a rush. He feels it before he sees it, the immediate tension that snaps into place - Ginny’s shoulders in an unforgiving line, Ron’s eyes suddenly wide, and Hermione’s gaze sharp. Harry hurries to continue. “Back when he was at Hogwarts. Back when he was…” He chooses his next word carefully. “...different.”</p><p>“He had a pretty face to hide behind,” Ginny snaps, looking up with a scowl. “That’s the only difference I can think of.”</p><p>“He was different from the Voldemort we know now.”</p><p>“Well he seems saner, I suppose.” Ron muses, before shrugging “But I guess that’s easier to fake when you actually, like, have a nose. And just look normal, and everyone expects you to be normal too.”</p><p>“<em> Ron. </em> ” Is sighed with no small dose of exasperation and twitching lips, before Hermione turns to look back at Harry “I’ll admit, he sounds…’sanity’ isn’t the word I’d use, not <em> really </em> , there’s too much medical debate to settle on what clinical insanity actual <em> is </em>.” Ignoring Ron’s confused expression as he mouths ‘clinically’, she taps her fingers against the page of the open book in her lap “But I won’t deny that everything about younger Riddle, if not normal, makes him sound more vulnerable, more…”</p><p>“Human.” Harry agrees. He feels a sudden bout of adrenaline coursing through his veins, unexpected and unexplainable.</p><p>Maybe it’s the jittery excitement of such a taboo conversation; of opening up the dialogue on such a <em> forbidden </em> topic. Maybe it’s the relief of finally revealing his thoughts, the joy at the acceptance he’s found. It could be a lot of things.</p><p>But there’s electricity sitting on the back of his tongue. The hairs on the back of his head stand upright with static, and he feels like <em> something more. </em></p><p>Ginny snorts, humorlessly. “Funny. Maybe it’s just me, but when I think about killing a girl and setting a giant, deadly snake upon a school filled with <em> children </em>, ‘Human’ isn’t really the word -”</p><p>Harry interrupts her before she can finish. “Well yes, but what about before that?” </p><p>His words blur together. Shooting up to his feet, Harry begins to pace in front of his increasingly alarmed friends. “Before he killed Myrtle, before the Chamber. That was the irreversible action, right? The one that changed him, the point of no return? So what about the time <em> before </em> that? What if something had made him change his mind?” He pauses suddenly and then, just as suddenly, grins. “What if <em> someone </em>had made him change his mind?”</p><p>“What-” Ginny raises her eyebrows, indignation abandoned in favour of complete bewilderment but Hermione, eyes wide and voice hushed, interrupts the redhead once again:</p><p>“Harry, I <em> don’t </em> like where you’re going with this.”</p><p>“But Hermione, it’s a way to fix <em> everything! </em>”</p><p>“<em> And </em> to change the world as we know it, which I have to remind you, includes <em> everything after that point in time </em> , by which I mean our <em> births </em> .” She whispers back harshly. She closes her book with a loud <em> thud. </em> “Harry, this is crazy, we could cause a rip in the very fabric of time!”</p><p>“But imagine! Hermione, please, imagine -” Quickly walking to stand before her, Harry grabs her shoulders and looks straight into her dark eyes. Taking advantage of her startled silence, he continues: “Think about all the lives we’d be saving. Wouldn’t it be worth it?”</p><p>“Oh, Harry…”</p><p>“All the Time-Turners were destroyed in the Ministry last year.” Ron jumps in, enthusiasm colouring his tone. He grins when he sees Harry’s answering smirk “You have a plan.”</p><p>“For once, I do. I’m going upstairs to get the Cloak and the Map. We’re going to the restricted section.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>After that night, after that insane, earth-shattering decision - life became background noise.</p><p>Harry feels like he’s on autopilot, his limbs moving mechanically through the actions without any sort of conscious thought. Going to classes, taking notes, doing homework, Quidditch, meals at the Great Hall - everything lacks importance, everything that made life worth living <em> (like the air rushing through windblown hair, a delicious slice of treacle tart, a full belly, and a cozy armchair in front of a fireplace) </em> feels muted, somehow. Even the things that still <em> matter </em>, like talking with his friends or his lessons with Dumbledore, are accompanied by the constant buzz of plans and schemes and expectations.</p><p>And he has tried to continue living life normally, to continue paying mind to the same things he had before, to live through them with the same vigour, to attempt to maintain a semblance of normality - or at least his own sort of normality, teenagehood spent under the limelight and the public eye and fit snugly between various life-threatening shenanigans.</p><p>But not even the growing puzzle of Draco Malfoy’s odd behaviour can hold his attention - not with those cold brown eyes and that kind, utterly <em> insincere </em> smile filling his thoughts day and night.</p><p>Not when the possibility of fixing everything, of <em> understanding, </em>   grows, second by second and day by day, closer to <em> reality </em>.</p><p>“Blimey,” Ron whispers, late one night, when they’re both sitting in the ginger’s bed. The bed hangings are closed with a sticking charm and layered with a <em> Muffliato </em> on top of that, to keep any of their dorm mates from eavesdropping. “I have no bloody clue <em> how </em> we even managed this, Harry, it just… bloody hell <em> , </em>d’you think anyone has ever tried this shit before?”</p><p>Harry can’t stop himself from grinning. He can’t stop feeling giddy and weightless anymore than he can stop <em> breathing. </em> “Who knows? I mean, it’s not like it was easy, but if we did it, someone else must’ve figured it out too.”</p><p>“Yeah, but not everyone has Hermione and a Restricted Section, mate.”</p><p>“Well, I don’t know, and honestly does it really matter?”</p><p>Ron laughs. “No, I guess it doesn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>It hadn’t been easy to plan - attempting the unthinkable requires a lot of trips to the Restricted Section, a lot of sleepless nights, a lot of shady tomes and ingredients ordered and obtained through shadier sources - but the very first obstacle had been Ginny.</p><p>“I don’t care what you think!” She’d whispered at her brother, voice pitched as loud as she would dare go with Madam Pince hanging about so close by. “I’m old enough, I’m much older than any of you were when you started doing this sort of shit - hell, according to our research I’ll be as old then as Harry is <em> now </em>! You can’t keep me here!”</p><p>It had only been a week since the Conversation (capital letters employed for full emphasis), and Ron’s reddening ears indicated that he deeply regretted that the Conversation had even happened near his sister in the first place.</p><p>“I’m your older brother -” He begins, voice rising steadily before Hermione’s sharp shushing interrupts him. Momentarily cowed under Hermione’s glare, Ron looks away.</p><p>Hermione looks at Ginny.</p><p>“Be reasonable,” She says, tone low and calm and ever so slightly <em> patronising </em> , her words lined with urgency. Her Potions essay lays forgotten on the table, and it’s the biggest testament to her concern and focus on the current matter. “The fewer people the better. This is much bigger and a <em> lot </em> more dangerous than anything we have ever done. It’s extremely important that someone on this end of the timeline knows of it.”</p><p>“We can just tell Neville and Luna, I don’t get what the big deal is!”</p><p>“They’ll want to come too,” Ron interjects quickly</p><p>“No they <em> won’t </em> , Merlin do you even <em> know </em> Neville and Luna? They’ll prefer to stay back and keep things under control.”</p><p>“And why don’t you?” And Harry winces, knowing the answer before Ginny shoots back, nearly <em> hissing </em>.</p><p>“‘Cause I’m the one who got possessed!<em> ” </em></p><p>Ron and Hermione flinch, frowns and scowls replaced by regretful, sympathetic expressions. But sympathetic doesn’t mean <em> pleased </em> , sympathetic doesn’t mean <em> concession </em>, and Ginny is smart enough to recognize this. </p><p>She turns to Harry. Her red hair surrounds her in a fiery halo and the set of her mouth tightens; she’s lined in fire and determination and steel and, in that instance, Harry thinks that he might have grown to love her, if things had turned out differently.</p><p>“Well?” She asks expectantly, gaze narrow and shoulders tense, preparing herself for further argument. “What do you have to say about this?”</p><p>The problem, Harry muses to himself, is that he has far too much to say.</p><p>Part of him - the part that still agonizes over Cedric and Sirius, the part that can’t look at Ron’s scarred arms without flinching, the part that has a <em> saving-people-thing </em> - it doesn’t want Ginny to go at all. Ginny means <em> innocence </em> , Ginny means <em> little sister, </em> and little sisters aren’t meant to participate in dangerous, experimental rituals that, in the best-case scenario, would land them in a completely different era and in close quarters with dangerous, unpredictable people.</p><p>Another part of him nods its head gravely at this consideration, and chimes in to say that Ron and Hermione shouldn’t go either. This is <em> Harry’s </em> job, this is Harry’s <em> obsession </em> and more people means <em> distractions. </em> He’s not particularly proud of these thoughts, not particularly proud of the way his heart flutters at the thought of Tom Riddle’s gaze on him and <em> solely </em>on him, of the way his thoughts whirl and buzz with urgency and leave little space for anything else to worry his mind.</p><p>
  <em> (Tom Riddle obsessed too, doesn’t he, or so Dumbledore says. And Harry is far too used to having all their similarities thrown at his face.) </em>
</p><p>And then there’s the third side of his inner war - the part that whispers <em> you need all the help you can get </em> and <em> if Ginny goes, their attention will be less focused on you, too. </em> It's not the voice of <em> Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived </em>; this is not the boy who stands up to Ministry officials and boldly carves his punishment into his skin, who stands up to criminals and murderers and comes out unscathed.</p><p>This is <em> Just Harry </em> . Just Harry, who grew up with a keen eye on his aunt’s gossip and another on his uncle’s temper. Just Harry, who grew up knowing when to push and when to run away, who to trust and when to lie, how to hide, how to <em> survive. </em></p><p><em> You’d do well in Slytherin </em> the Hat whispers in the back of his mind and, ash on his tongue, Harry decides.</p><p>“Ginny goes with us.” He says and immediately raises his hands to ward off Ron and Hermione’s incoming protests. “She knows Tom Riddle better than the two of you, she’ll be a valuable asset. Besides, involving Neville and Luna isn’t a bad idea, either.”</p><p>And that was that; Ginny grinning victoriously, as Hermione grudgingly admits the logic behind the decision, and Ron fumes quietly. </p><p>Harry goes back to his essay, decidedly ignoring the bitter coil of <em> guilt </em> that curls in the pit of his stomach.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>The second obstacle had been the <em> cover story </em>.</p><p>“We could all just be Muggleborns,” Ginny says, exasperation colouring her tone and hair falling off the loose bun she threw up 5 hours before. “No obscure connections, no background. Just magic’s fucking miracle.”</p><p>Ron groans. He’s lying on the floor, open books haphazardly distributed around him, the quill he’d been trying to balance on his nose tipping to the side and falling. “Ginny, we don’t know the first thing about Muggles <em> now </em> , we won’t know a thing about Muggle culture from <em> 50 years ago. </em>”</p><p>Hermione hums. “You can be Wizard-raised half-bloods <em> at most </em>. Isn't your mom’s maiden name Prewett?”</p><p>Ron grunts, and props himself up on his elbows. “Yeah, why? You found something?”</p><p>“I think so, here.” She answers, shoving her book closer to the end of the table, so Ginny and Ron can squint up at it.  Harry peers at it from the other side of the table, blinking and trying to focus on the words written in a minuscule script. “This is a compendium of Grindelwald’s attacks in the later years of the war. It says here that there was an attack on a Wizard and Muggle village, 1942, in Devon and lists two Prewett children as casualties. Ottery St. Catchpole is in Devon too, so...”</p><p>“Oh, gross,” Ginny says. “I’m not taking the place of a dead kid, Hermione. Of a <em> dead cousin </em>, I’m guessing.”</p><p>“There’s no way I can fake an accent,” Harry says and Hermione pauses, consideringly.</p><p>Ron snorts. “Londoners.”</p><p>“I’m from Surrey.”</p><p>“Is there a difference?”</p><p>“Boys!” Hermione glares them both into submission, before continuing, popping her elbow on the table and resting her cheek on her hand. “I mean, we don’t all have to be from the same place?”</p><p>“I thought we wanted to be relatives?”</p><p>“Well, yes, but relatives visit, right? Harry and I could just be cousins, staying over for a few weeks…”</p><p>“Do those Prewetts have any conveniently deceased, childless, unknown relatives?” Ron asks.</p><p>“Guess we’ll have to find out.” Harry answers. </p><p>He grabs the tomes they took from the library’s Genealogy setting. They rest on his side of the table, dusty and despairingly long, and he grunts as he distributes them between his friends. Then, Harry settles back in his chair to page through his own book in search of the Prewetts. </p><p>When he finally finds them, a quick look through their recorded family tree has him blinking, taking off his glasses to clean them, putting them back on, and blinking again. “Huh. Ron?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“They do. Have conveniently deceased, childless, unknown relatives, I mean. And…” Harry clears his throat. His heart beats faster as he continues. “That relative seems to have married into a magical family named Granger…”</p><p>They stare at each other, wide-eyed, and Harry wonders if they’re all thinking the same thing. If they too feel the same disbelief, a sudden spell of dizziness, a sense of <em> wrongness </em>.</p><p>If they too remember, in a flash, how Harry and Hermione went back in time once, to save Sirius Black, only to understand that they had done it before.</p><p>If they too felt <em> inevitability. </em></p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>From then on, it was more research. They read about Time-Turners (where to find them, how they were built, their history, the most detailed explanations they could find) only to realize they’d be useless. Not only, as they (Hermione) recalled, Time-Turners could only safely transport users to a maximum of five hours back, but also, they (Ron) recalled, all Time-Turners whose whereabouts they knew of had been smashed in the Ministry of Magic in their altercation with the Death Eaters.</p><p>So. No Time-Turners.</p><p>However, as they (Ginny) realized, they could do without the actual Time Turner if they could get their hands on the most important and volatile component: time sand. Which would be swell if, as Hermione pointed out, they knew where to find time sand. And how to destabilize it in a controlled environment in a way that would allow them to control how many years they needed to go back.</p><p>And <em> that </em> required research - on the primordials of magic itself, on Ley Lines and the Wheel of the Year - as well as a quick trip to Egypt, anxiously and quietly arranged by an extremely suspicious Bill Weasley. They managed to get in contact with world-renowned experts in Time and <em> maybe </em> they did have to resort to some unsavoury means to ensure the secrecy of their trip and <em> maybe </em> equally unsavoury means were called upon when the time came to actually <em> acquire </em> the time sand from the local reserves and <em> maybe </em> Harry did bribe one or two guards but really - everything for a good cause.</p><p>It was after that last fact that they (Ron, Hermione, and Ginny) realized that they (Harry) did have the funds to acquire expensive books or ingredients, as well as the claim to fame that meant any expert or information was easily accessible and eager to help.</p><p>After that, things went smoothly.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“And I was wondering, Harry, if you can forgive an old man’s curiosity; is there anything I should know regarding your increasingly long stays at the library? Or Miss Weasley’s, or Mr. Weasley’s, or Miss Granger’s. Madam Pince has informed me of your newfound dedication to your studies, but I confess myself unsure as to what in the fifth or sixth year curriculums would require nightly visits to our Restricted Section.”</p><p>
  <em> Shit. </em>
</p><p>Harry blinks and hopes he isn’t too obvious in his avoidance of direct eye contact.</p><p>“I am..” He flounders for a bit, brain whirring furiously, before continuing slowly. “innovating. Sir.”</p><p>A raised eyebrow. A quirk of lips. <em> Amusement. </em></p><p>“Is that so?”</p><p>“Yes, sir, Harry answers, inwardly cursing every choice that has led him to the present moment. </p><p>The Headmaster chuckles.</p><p>“You have always been a rather ingenious boy, Harry.” Dumbledore comments, absent-minded, as if talking to himself. “Taking risks that others would consider unthinkable, faced with chances that would make most of us wallow in defeat. I have no doubt that you are admirably capable of, ah, ‘innovating’.” The Headmaster smiles as Harry blushes. “I would, however, like to humbly request that you allow me to assist you a bit further.”</p><p>Harry stares.</p><p>“Sir?”</p><p>“Occlumency is undeniably a precious resource, Harry. And although Professor Snape seems to lack faith in your talent for the art, I’m sure we can make something out of it. One can only guess when you might have to closely interact with similarly capable wizards, isn’t that so?”</p><p>
  <em> He knows. </em>
</p><p>“Yes, sir.”</p><p>“Good. Now, Harry, it’s getting quite late. I believe it’s time you go off to bed.”</p><p>“Good evening, Professor.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Dumbledore is dead.</p><p>Dumbledore is dead and buried and that <em> traitor </em> , that <em> coward </em> murdered him. Looked him in the eyes - a man who <em> trusted </em>him - and murdered him.</p><p>Occlumency helped. Occlumency had kept him in control long enough and well enough that he was able to aim a parting curse at Snape’s back. Unashamed and unabashed at cursing an opponent with their back turned - he would be later, but not then. Not then, with the sight of Dumbledore’s lifeless eyes imprinted into his mind.</p><p>Their plan has to succeed.</p><p>Now, more than ever, <em> it has to succeed </em>. They can not fail, they can not hesitate.</p><p>He <em> has </em> to do it.</p><p>For Dumbledore.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>comment and subscribe folks, i'm here all day</p><p>i'm also somewhat active at cealesti.tumblr.com</p></blockquote></div></div>
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